A/N 05/20/13: This story was originally written to include the lyrics to "White Blank Page" by Mumford and Sons. The song is entirely what caused me to bring forth this piece, and I feel that it is integral to it as a work of fanfiction. However, I am also now aware that posting lyrics is a no-no, and so I have removed them and replaced them with the portion of the song that goes with the story. It is unfortunate, but, I also understand that the rules are the rules, and I will abide by them.
So, having made that clear, please read the lyrics as a compendium, if you will. I have indicated which verses/chorus in the lyrics should be read before each portion of the story. I hope that it is still enjoyable, and that having to flip between web pages does not make it less so. I would post a recommended lyric website, but this website does not allow any linking of any sort. Alas, it is what it is.
A/N: Loki and Darcy have to be one of my favorite pairings that aren't. The very first time I heard the song that inspired this fanfiction, I immediately thought of them, and the story pretty much just wrote itself. Hopefully there will be some action in Thor 2... a fangirl can only dream.
Disclaimers: The song "White Blank Page" by Mumford and Sons belongs to them and them alone. It just inspired me with its beauty. Characters belong to Marvel and/or Paramount Pictures.
Lyric one of song
From the very start, he had no desire to spend another moment on "Earth" as it was called by the Midgardians. But, like so many previous decisions, he had no say, no choice in the matter. He was forced to return to this wretched realm, to atone for a sin that he was not truly sorry for. On top of that, Odin had robbed him of his powers, his magic taken from him until he was "worthy of it," whatever that meant. He even had to accept the fact that his overbearing ogre of a brother would be "watching" him, like some unnecessary nanny. For some reason, SHIELD and their obnoxious leader Fury allowed Thor to bring him to their base of operations. He could only assume that it was out of some sort of misguided trust in Thor, but he really did not care. In fact, he had been sorely tempted to behave like a petulant child, since he was being treated as such. He could very easily refuse to do anything other than sit in a corner and sulk.
But, unbeknownst to him, the day of his return to Midgard would be the day he had discovered her. True, he had seen her through the eyes of the Destroyer before, but had paid little heed. He had been far too focused on destruction, and she had been nothing but collateral damage. Something long lost in him awoke-stirred and upset by a mere mortal. Deep within the recesses of his brain, a need to understand sprang forth, and he knew he had to figure out what it was about this girl that had caught him so. Curiosity may have killed the cat, but for him, it soothed his bitterness, giving him a purpose and a focus. The sooner that Odin believed he was being cooperative and had completed his penance, the sooner he could return to Asgard. If working with SHIELD and the Avengers would allow him that opportunity, then he could withstand it. He had definitely aligned himself with worse allies in the past, and maybe, along the way, he could satisfy his intrigue.
So, he had settled into a routine, assisting Jane Foster and other SHIELD scientists by sharing some of the vast amount of knowledge he had collected over the years. Surprisingly enough, he had found his work somewhat satisfying, due to the time it allowed him to analyze Darcy. Thick-rimmed glasses that somehow helped him to see, to understand that mortals did have a few redeeming qualities, that there was more to Midgard than a race of sniveling nothings that needed to be ruled. He would catch her staring at him occasionally, as if she were making some sort of decision, and he found it intriguing that she thought she could judge him. She had been the only one, other than Thor, to regard him with anything other than open disdain. It was her kindness that he found most endearing and yet strange, considering that he had tried to kill her twice, albeit indirectly.
And so he found himself stuck in a mostly insufferable situation with another day of tedious research on his horizon. He walked into the lab, still in a daze from his bleak thoughts, when he realized that something was different. He approached the new additions, a desk and chair, slowly, eying them questioningly. The lab was already crowded enough as is; another person would just add to the din. And though he relished chaos, he needed quiet when reading. He noticed Darcy watching him carefully, probably waiting for his reaction. When he said nothing, she nervously offered, "I figured that you would like somewhere to sit."
He was coming to learn that Darcy was a woman full of surprises, and he liked that very much. He ran his fingers along the surface of the desk, as he tried to sound indifferent, nonplussed, "You did this?"
She nodded, while absent-mindedly tapping her pencil on the desk. "It seems like you are going to be in here helping us pretty frequently, and it can't be very comfortable to stand all the time."
He openly snickered at her foolishness, "I am far more durable than you think; I could stand for centuries if I needed to. I do not tire like you humans do. How silly of you to think so."
Rolling her eyes, she walked out of the room, shooting back, "Now I know why you looked so surprised by a simple act of kindness. People rarely do nice things for assholes."
He stood there, watching the space she vacated, shaking his head. Humans may be a race of lacking cowards, but Darcy was not. Not only did that cause him to want to investigate her further, it made him admire her, something that he did not easily feel for anyone−Aesir or human. It wouldn't do to have her hating him. Further inspection of his desk proved that it was stocked with all sorts of office supplies, more proof of her generosity. He plucked a sheet of white note paper from the pad, and picked up something that resembled a pen. It was just more proof that Midgard lacked proper amenities. Putting the suspect writing implement to paper, he wrote out a combination of Midgardian and Asgardian characters, and deposited the note on her desk.
Darcy,
Thank you.
Signed,
ᛏᚺᛖ ᚹᛊᛊᚺᛟᛚᛖ
p.s. - I thought you might like to expand your curse word repertoire.
He viewed it as a necessary concession; after all, he didn't need to piss any more people off. A very simple act that would ignite something that was anything but.
Lyric two of song
What was he doing here? Even he, at this very moment, questioned his sanity, like so many before him. He realized that he might finally understand what a true, slow descent into lunacy was. Madness was a brief, heady waft of lilac, or a shock of chocolate eyes through the steam of a coffee cup. What she caused in him, it was the most wonderful kind of insanity, and his chaotic nature screamed for more. But, really, he ought to know better. Even fallen gods should recognize the situation he had gotten himself into, but he was entirely too selfish to care.
His bedmate exhaled deeply against his shoulder, her arm shifting across his chest in her slumber. Sleeping was something that mortals required, and Asgardians could indulge in, but he had no wish to do so. His mind was restless, chaotic, and roaming wildly amongst thoughts of the girl beside him. There should be nothing special about her rose-petal lips, nothing extraordinary about her chestnut curls that enticed him so. Yet, the sight of her perched alongside him made him burn, somewhere deep and, he had thought, locked away. He recognized the danger, but even he, Loki, the god of lies and deceit, was helpless. Everyone has a weakness – but the strongest keep theirs a secret.
No, he couldn't allow himself to be enraptured by her; he allowed no one to cage him, least of all some silly mortal girl. But, maybe, he could entertain himself and give her pleasure as well. That, he knew he could do-make her toes curl while she moaned for him in the darkness, the harsh dig of her chewed fingernails raking across his shoulders as she begged for mercy. Surely, a little fun never hurt anyone, and Darcy was loads of fun.
But maybe, as the Trickster God, you play the biggest trick upon yourself.
Lyric three of song
Silver, opulent and blinding, filled his eyes as he found himself within the throne room of Valaskjálf, one of Odin's halls. It was so familiar, and yet hazy, something like a dream.
"Yes, my son, a vision of sorts. But, it is very much real."
His lip curled at the term of endearment, but he let it pass without comment. He had known that Odin was capable of telepathy, but he was not aware of the extent of his power in this regard. The All-father always held something back, and he wondered what other tricks he might have up his sleeve. He tried to keep his tongue civil, "What do you require of me?"
The old man nodded slightly, and it sent a chill running down his spine. "Straight to the point, as always."
"I enjoy word games, my King, but I choose not to waste them now. You wouldn't bother with this unless there was something pressing."
"It is time for you to return home, my son."
The words hit him like fists to the gut. Uplifting joy and crushing despair filled him in equal parts, a swirling mish-mash of unbridled emotion. Home...is that what Asgard was now, and had it truly ever been? Back to being a freak, an outcast amongst the Aesir, and yet, he did miss his mother and her soothing ways. At least he would be rid of this dreaded realm and its wretched inhabitants, no more to hear the frustrated grumble of Fury or Stark's terrible humor. No more rainy, cold weather and obnoxious mortals. His brain came to a screeching halt as his mind tumbled. Darcy. He was unable to restrain the hatred in his voice. "Of course you would..."
"Hold your tongue, child."
"As soon as I would find pleasure, you would take it away."
"Contrary to your belief, I have no control over fate. The mortal chose to become involved with you, just as you chose to become entangled with her. I had nothing to do with that, and she has no part in your sentence. It is simply time for you to return home."
He seethed, barely restraining his temper, "You may be able to pull the wool over the eyes of your thick-headed son, but you will not fool me."
Sighing, Odin shook his head, "There is no trick here. Although, I will admit I am surprised at your anger over coming home. I had thought that you would be overjoyed."
He hesitated for the briefest second, and only the All-father himself, or perhaps Frigga, would have caught it. Odin's eye blinked, and then a smile, scary in its scarcity, spread across his face. "Why is it that you are so upset, Loki? Could it be that you have come to care for someone, other than yourself?"
Blinded by rage, he charged forward towards his "father." The old man raised a hand, and he felt his knees scrape against the floor, his legs buckling under a crushing, unseen weight. "You would do well to remember that this is my realm, boy."
He knelt there, fuming, as Odin continued, "Love is such a powerful thing that it can drive one to be careless."
He snapped, "I never said anything about love."
Odin's eyes narrowed in response, "Well, then...there is no reason for me to reconsider. You will return home. You have served your time, and I need you and your brother here."
Chorus and lyric four of song
He found her standing in the living room of her one-bedroom flat, which had somehow become their shared sanctuary over the past several months. Her back faced him as she stared forward, eyes upon her bookcase and its empty shelf. He could see her arms trembling, a piece of familiar paper within her right hand shaking in rhythm. She growled at him, through clenched teeth, "This isn't very funny."
"It is not meant to be so."
She turned, leveling a gaze upon him that rivaled Heimdall's in its searching and he kept his face neutral, guarded, under her intense scrutiny. Her voice rose an octave as she gestured toward the card in her hand, "What is this all about?"
He sighed, feeling rather exhausted and disgusted, and there would be no lie that would leave his lips tonight. "It is magic."
He watched her swallow, the skin at her throat rippling slightly. "No shit, sherlock."
A sick, slight smirk appeared across his lips, "You asked the obvious question."
"Why is it blank?"
His humor left him just as quick as it came. "The spell erases memories linked to a particular person."
He watched her face contort in pain and anger, the lines a familiar quality he had seen many times. He could hear the confusion and frustration in her voice, "I should know what this used to say. I feel like it's right there, on the tip of my tongue."
"You will not once I am finished."
Her voice quivered with unrestrained contempt, "So that's the plan, huh? Now that you have your powers back, you just want to forget everything that has happened? You're done with Earth... done with... "
He knew where her words were leading but he did not want to hear them. Cutting her off, he responded, "It's beyond time for me to go."
He was such an accomplished liar that he almost believed those words. Her fingers crushed the paper, balling it into her fists, "Then don't let the door hit you in the ass on the way out. But, you can leave my thoughts alone."
He snorted at her obstinance, but he tried to maintain his voice, "It is better for you not to remember."
She bolted across the room towards him, striking him with an open hand. Tears streamed down her face as she screamed, "Better for me? You will not be fooling me with that bullshit. It is better for YOU. You may want to forget what love is, Loki, but I do not."
He grabbed her arm, pulling her into an embrace. Stiffening, she pummeled him with her fists, and he absorbed her blows, letting her vent. There were only a few more incantations needed to complete casting the spell, and he wanted to be done with this. He whispered, letting his emotions flood his tone, "I will never forget you, Darcy, or what we have shared."
She paused, looking at his face, peering deeply, "Why...why then are you doing this? "
"I cannot be the man that you need. I cannot love..." He began chanting, stumbling with the words, clinging to the woman who had shown him so much.
Begging, her whisper cried in his ear, "Please do not do this."
"You deserve so much more than what I can give you..." he ended the chant, placing a kiss on her forehead, and her body slumped forward as the spell took hold. He lifted her weight, carrying her to the couch, and he gently removed the crumpled paper from her fingers, the thank you note a sad reminder that he would cherish. She looked as though she were sleeping, and in a few hours, she would awake in a better place.
Chorus of song
Each letter and wrinkle in the paper swirled, until the entire sheet liquefied, a shimmering sea of white that became increasingly translucent. He found her through the transformed paper, like he had done so many times, its surface a shimmering mirror that allowed him to view the object of his affections. When he first returned to Asgard, he could not bring himself to watch her long; her selective amnesia and the contempt he had for himself at being the cause was far too much to bear. But, time heals all wounds, and every day, the light returned a little bit brighter in her eyes. He counted her rapid recovery amongst his blessings, grateful that she seemed no worse for wear, minus any memories of him. He spent most of his days observing her through the paper mirror. At first, he had convinced himself it was to ensure that he had not harmed Darcy with his spell. But, that was evident rather quickly, and still he consumed his time with watching her. Even now, as she was fawning over some idiot, he could not stop stalking her.
The idiot's name is David, and he is some run-of-the-mill scrub SHIELD agent that Darcy has taken a liking to. David seemed harmless enough, there was no comparison really, until the meddling fool tried to kiss his Darcy. Hands clenched, he tried to reach into the mirror, ready to throttle David, when she returned the kiss.
A snarl passed his lips, and he grabbed the paper, flipping it off the table. He should not hate her for forgetting−after all, that is what he wanted. So why is it so painful?
A small, traitorous voice whispered in the back of his mind. "You know why..."
After that, he decided he couldn't watch her through the looking glass anymore.
Lyric five of song
His eyes had often seen the great hall decorated for important events, but never had he been so nervous about the impending ceremony. When his brother told him that he intended to wed Jane Foster, he had given him his blessing. The relationship between the couple had been a boon; it had given Thor the impetus to make some important character changes-for the better. Any woman who managed to tame his stubborn sibling was a worthy addition to the family.
Family, for better or worse, was what they had become, or rather, what he finally acknowledged they were. Thor had accepted him for what he was when no one else would. Over time, they had begun showing each other respect, and their relationship mended. He knew that Thor would want him at the wedding, and he would not refuse him that. He also knew that it meant coming face to face with the human who still plagued his thoughts. He reassured himself with the fact that only he and Thor would know. So, he busied himself with menial tasks, managing to occupy himself with preparations for the event, helping his mother with allocating work to the servants. And on the day of the wedding, he kept himself in his suite, ensuring that he would not have any unexpected surprises.
When it came time, he dressed himself in his ceremonial finest, and took his place in the hall next to his brother. He kept his eyes glued to the floor, until he heard Thor's gravelly whisper, "You look more nervous than I, brother. Who is getting married today?"
A corner of his mouth rose in jest, "You were and still are oblivious to danger. If I were marrying Jane, it would be wise to be nervous."
Chuckling lightly, Thor continued, "Are you sure you want to do this, Loki? I can only imagine..."
He raised a hand, silencing his brother, "I am fine, Thor. I will be here for you on this day. Do not concern yourself with me."
Trumpets and mandolins heralded the start of the procession, and he intended to return his gaze to the floor. But, his traitorous eyes skimmed over something crystal blue on their journey, and they homed in like a hungry beast. Shimmering in her gown, she looked just as beautiful now as she had the day he left her side. He followed her down the aisle until she stood at the front of the hall, and her gaze met his. The jolt brought him back to the moment, and he found Jane, the bride, in all her glory. He heard Thor's sudden intake of breath, and he whispered with a smirk, "Nervous now, brother?"
He tried to keep his attention on the wedding, but his eyes kept drifting back to the right of Jane, to the beautiful woman who was acting as her maid. Like the force of gravity, Darcy kept pulling him back to her, completely oblivious to the effect she was having on him. He drew heavily upon his upbringing and his mother's teachings, managing somehow to restrain himself and keep his composure. He forced himself to focus on his brother and his important moment, and as soon as the ceremony had concluded and he could make a proper exit, he excused himself, fleeing to his room. The feast and reception were just beginning, but he could no longer keep it together, and he did not want to take away from Thor's day.
Once he was back in his bedroom, he could feel his heartbeat slow, and he allowed himself a glass of wine to calm his jitters. He could faintly hear music from the party, and he decided to busy himself with his books to distract his thoughts. A small knock interrupted his studies, and he didn't bother to look over his shoulder as the door slid open. Only his brother would be so forward as to barge into the room without gaining a response. His voice was half-serious, "Your manners are lacking. What if I had been in a state of undress?"
Her chuckle lit a fire in the pit of his stomach, and he spun up to his feet as she offered, "I would have told you to put on some clothes..."
He tried to sound light, and failed, "What are you doing here?"
"I could ask you the same question. Your brother and my best friend just got hitched, and you are up here alone, being antisocial."
"I needed a break from all the excitement. I was just getting ready to return to the party when you knocked."
She pointed toward the stack of books on his desk, "Right...you just needed to finish a few dozen books first."
It was her flippant tongue that he loved most about her, and he allowed a true smile to cross his lips. "You still have not answered why you are here."
She looked lost in her thoughts, and her forehead wrinkled in response. "To be honest, I'm not quite sure. I..." she started, and then paused, shaking her head, "I felt the need to speak with you."
Clearing his throat, he opened his mouth to speak, but she interrupted. "It's so strange that Jane and Thor are married, and that we have never met or spoken before today. Jane is like a sister to me, and I want to learn all about her new family."
He let go of the breath that he did not realize he was holding and responded, "Worry not. Jane is now my sister, and I know that Thor will treat her well."
"I'm glad," she responded.
They chatted for a while over wine and rather mundane subjects, like childhood stories of his family, especially ones that embarrassed Thor. Through their laughter, he realized just how much he missed the camaraderie between the two of them. Before they were ever intimate, they really had been "good buddies" as she had called it. The pang of loneliness burned in his chest, and he knew that he had to escape her presence before his will crumbled.
Darcy's voice broke through his thoughts, "This is probably going to sound a little crazy, but I feel like I've known you for so much longer."
He forced a smile, trying to be reassuring, "Wine and words can do that to a person."
"No..." she stated frankly, "I can't quite wrap my head around it, but it's more than just alcohol making me feel that way. It's also the way Thor acted earlier when I came to him asking about you."
Under her gaze, his skin burned and his chest tightened as her eyes felt like they were boring a hole straight through him. When he offered no response, she continued, "I told him that I wanted to speak with you, and asked him if he knew where you were. He was so evasive, cagey, even. Something about us being together made him anxious."
He shrugged, trying to seem nonchalant, "It is the man's wedding day. I am sure he was anxious, but I am also sure it had nothing to do with us."
She rubbed her temples with her fingers, her voice straining, "No...there is something. I just need to focus..."
"It is better for you not to remember."
Her eyes shot open, peering at him, brimming with conviction, "You've said that to me before. Before today, I mean."
He wanted to argue, but he could do so no more. "Yes."
"You have something that belongs to me," she whispered matter-of-factly.
He nodded, rising and crossing the room to the table that held his prized memento. He brought it to her, offering it with his left hand.
"Why did you deceive me?"
"Because I feared the truth...but I can no longer escape it−or you."
She stood, grabbing the letter from his hand, "Give me back all that you have taken from me."
He cast the reversal spell, weaving his words, and when he finished, she moved closer to him. She trailed a finger along his cheek, leaning against him, "You should be glad that I remember now just how much I love you. But, you are still an asshole."
"The asshole, Darcy."
She silenced him with her lips, threading her fingers into his hair. He moaned into her mouth, aching to feel her body against his, but he managed restraint for just a moment. There were things that he needed to say. He broke the kiss, keeping his forehead against hers to restrain her, and she grumbled in protest as he offered, "The asshole that loves you, too."